


Kilgharrah, If You Please

by KilgharrahTheGreat, Pelydryn



Series: All the FLUFF! [13]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Camelot Remix 2020, Cat Kilgharrah (Merlin), Cats are better than people, Crack, Dragons are better than cats, Familiars, Fate & Destiny, Footnotes, Fourth Wall, Humor, It's all love, Kilgharrah Ships Merlin/Arthur (Merlin), Kilgharrah doesn't do crack, Kilgharrah doesn't do humour, M/M, Matchmaking, No such thing as too many footnotes, kilgharrah reads harry potter, what fourth wall?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:21:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24669073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KilgharrahTheGreat/pseuds/KilgharrahTheGreat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pelydryn/pseuds/Pelydryn
Summary: In which I, Kilgharrah the Great, give a fair account, noble and true, of the events that occurred in the story "Get Sick Soon", recorded by Polomonkey but experienced first-hand by me. Don't let any reports of the unreliability of eyewitness testimony sway you. This is what really happened. I was there. And I never misrepresent anything. Just ask Merlin. He'll back me up on this one. Or I'll scratch up hisfavourite woodcut. The one with the runes designed to ensure potency in bed.(I know, I know,Camelot Remixis supposed to be an anonymous fest. But unless I claim my work, how will you all know that the narrator of this tale can be trusted? You have to understand that I was actually there. Surely the rules don't apply to someone as esteemed as I?)
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: All the FLUFF! [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1064675
Comments: 48
Kudos: 44
Collections: Camelot Remix 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Polomonkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polomonkey/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Get Sick Soon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5941164) by [Polomonkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polomonkey/pseuds/Polomonkey). 
  * Inspired by [How to Make Linked Footnotes on AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4579026) by [La_Temperanza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/La_Temperanza/pseuds/La_Temperanza). 
  * Inspired by [Get Sick Soon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5941164) by [Polomonkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polomonkey/pseuds/Polomonkey). 



>   
> Publisher's disclaimer (the fine print): All views expressed within this story are solely those of Killy the cat and do not reflect those of the publisher, pre-reader, the Camelot Remix staff, Polomonkey, or ao3. All complaints and/or lawsuits should be directed to Killy's lawyer. The publisher has not benefitted financially from any of Killy's incendiary statements, internet picture theft, or vivid imagination. Furthermore, Killy's advice cannot replace the expert opinion of your doctor, lawyer, spiritual adviser, registered sorcerer, or family occultist. Following any advice contained herein is at your own risk. By continuing to read this story, you agree to not hold the publisher, the pre-reader, ao3, Polomonkey, or Camelot Remix liable for any damages.  
>    
> No arm chairs were harmed in the telling of this tale.  
> 

Author's Note

My dear Polomonkey,

In the time-honoured tradition of authors' notes everywhere, I would like to take a moment to address a few items before I begin my narrative.

It was recently brought to my attention that you have been writing stories about me. I must say that I completely approve. Who is more worthy of featuring in eminent works of art than I, the great Kilgharrah? At least I was pleased until I decided to take a little gander at what you actually wrote. It proved to be extremely difficult to find mention of my name anywhere! You've written, what, a [hundred and four Merlin stories](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polomonkey/pseuds/Polomonkey/works?fandom_id=232768) so far? And it took me aeons to find even a single mention of my noble self. I had to figure out how to use that convoluted searching mechanism thingy-majiggy—what is it called? Giggle? Goggle?—just to find them. And guess what I discovered. Only three of your stories include me as a character. Three!! A creature as magnificent as I, as ancient, revered, wise, and powerful—and I only appear three measly times. Do you know how many stories you've written about Merlin and Arthur? A damned lot, that's how many. Even Vivian gets more love than I do. [Four stories at least! Vivian!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/search?utf8=%E2%9C%93&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Btitle%5D=&work_search%5Bcreators%5D=polomonkey&work_search%5Brevised_at%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bsingle_chapter%5D=0&work_search%5Bword_count%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&work_search%5Bfandom_names%5D=&work_search%5Brating_ids%5D=&work_search%5Bcharacter_names%5D=Vivian+%28Merlin%29&work_search%5Brelationship_names%5D=&work_search%5Bfreeform_names%5D=&work_search%5Bhits%5D=&work_search%5Bkudos_count%5D=&work_search%5Bcomments_count%5D=&work_search%5Bbookmarks_count%5D=&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=_score&work_search%5Bsort_direction%5D=desc&commit=Search) Just thinking about her vacuous laugh makes me feel like there are thousands of ants crawling underneath my skin.

I must also object to your portrayal of my personality. In "[Love Has Come to Town](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13075566)", you cast me as the "terrifying" professor advocating eight-hour final exams. And in "[Of Prats and Periwinkles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6661831)", you claim I'm a weak parent. Me! Let's see, where is it... Here. Yes. And I quote: "But it quickly transpired that Kilgharrah was less firm instructor and more benevolent grandfather when it came to his adopted offspring. After all of his dire warnings and stern promises, Kilgharrah turned out to be a hilariously lax parent."

Hilariously lax? Benevolent grandfather? Do you need me to spit fire in your general direction?[1] There is nothing weak about me! I can see that you need to be seriously enlightened as to what a marvelous and venerable creature I am.

And talk about your inconsistent characterisation! Am I terrifying, or am I a pushover? Aren't those two things mutually exclusive?

See, this is what you get for not interviewing me before including my distinguished self in your work.

Well, this is your lucky day! I am here to set the record straight, at least for one incident that you took pains to write about. I must say you did a fairly adequate job of portraying the events in "[Get Sick Soon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5941164)." However, the account greatly lacks because of your failure to get my side of the story. So I am here to set down the facts as they actually occurred. You're welcome!

My apologies for the lack of mating scenes in my account. I see that you run a festival dedicated to the detailed exploration of such activities, and therefore must assume that you would appreciate a retelling of the time I was trapped in the bedroom with both the young warlock and the king. There I was, peacefully napping in the wardrobe, when the two burst in. First the clothes went flying, and then the king was laying the young warlock across his lap and swatting him with his hand until the warlock's thin little arse was as tight and red as a cherry skin, and then— Well, I'm scarred, and you'll just have to use your imagination. Now if you'll excuse me... I... seem to have a sudden desperate need to take care of some urgent business of my own. Do you think they'll be back in the bedroom? A little visual stimulation never hurts...

Ahem. I mean. I'm scarred. For life.

Anyway, carry on with the good work, what with all that fic-writing and mating-fest-running. Just... use my account herein to portray my character more realistically from here on out. (And I fully expect to be included in your future work! If not, well, I guess I'll never be persuaded to tell of the things I've seen while hiding in the wardrobe.)

Helpfully yours,

Kilgharrah the Great[2]

PS. I know the author's note is the traditional place to thank one's beta reader, but I, the highly educated Kilgharrah, have writing skills so far beyond those of any volunteer editor that their effort would be pointless. Obviously. But, in theory, if I did have someone pre-read my efforts and make comments along the way, I would, of course, have the good manners to shower her with appreciation. Hypothetically, her name might start with a "[mer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merlioske)-" and end with a "-[lioske](https://merlioske.tumblr.com/)". Perhaps. And then I would very kindly thank her for her efforts and continuous support and encouragement and effervescent enthusiasm. Except that would be absurd, for all the reasons stated above. So there will be no showering here, especially since I am stuck in a feline form and find showers abhorrent.

Furthermore, as a cat, I'd probably instinctively do something stupid like licking her. And then I'd have to go get a covid test. Good thing there isn't anyone to thank!!

* * *

This is the end of the author's note! I know you're very disappointed by this, but fear not!

If you just click [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24669073/chapters/60061870), you'll be taken to the actual _story_. Won't that be edifying?

* * *

1I might be stuck in a feline body, but I'm sure I could rustle up a flame thrower from somewhere. If it's good enough for those [Italian mayors](https://youtu.be/tx5H1IV2By0), it's good enough for me.[return to text]

* * *

2Since I am no longer in dragon form, I can no longer call myself the Great Dragon. Do you like my new epithet?[return to text]


	2. Chapter 2

Oh, I love you! I wish you got the flu  
So that I could take care of you  
Like you take care of me

(But not the coronavirus  
'Cause just between us  
Quarantine sucks)

* * *

Wait, wait, wait!

Before we go any farther, I would just like to take a moment to point out the absurdity of the above [song](https://genius.com/Hello-saferide-get-sick-soon-lyrics). I know my wisdom and powers of keen observation are far beyond anything a simple human could muster. But think about it! You're essentially saying that you wish for your beloved to experience pain in the muscles, a cough (dry or with phlegm), chills, dehydration, fatigue, fever, flushing, loss of appetite, body ache, sweating, nasal congestion, runny nose, sneezing, chest pressure, head congestion, headache, nausea, shortness of breath, sore throat, and swollen lymph nodes.

If I were the beloved referred to in this silly rhyme, I'd be inclined to stick some arsenic in my lover's coriander soup.

I must say I'm surprised at you, Polomonkey, for encouraging such despicable behaviour. I had heard that you were both sweet and intelligent. Silly me. That's what I get for listening to the common riffraff and not verifying information for myself.

* * *

And here, at last, we come to the telling of my tale. I realise that using a first person point of view is a controversial choice. But trust me, it'll be better this way, Polo—may I call you Polo? It's just that Polomonkey is such a mouthful.

Wait, what's that? Did you just call me Killy? What an undignified nickname. It's Kilgharrah, if you please.

And now, on with the story.

* * *

I need to start with acknowledging something that plagues my days and haunts my nights: the Triple Goddess is clearly displeased with me. Why else would she bring me back as a shabby little tabby cat instead of the magnificent, awe-inspiring dragon I had been? And she gave me Familiar status to boot! Was it because of that one time when I attacked Camelot and almost killed Arthur?

Fine. That was probably not the smartest thing I've ever done. It's a good thing Merlin wasn't my Dragonlord yet, or I would have been wing-deep in some serious feculence.

Though... if I'd killed the prince, would it really have mattered? It's not like Arthur wouldn't have a future. He's the Once and _Future_ King, after all. Hundreds of years might pass by, but the world _would_ be graced with his presence again.

Hopefully this time the bloke won't screw it up. He did a rather shoddy job of things his first go-round, if you ask me. Didn't unite Albion, didn't legalise magic, married the wrong person... And if he hadn't been acting all noble-like, trying to rescue that serving wench,[3] his life would never have been in danger anyway. He should have let me eat her.

What? Don't look at me like that. She'd have been a nice little snack after decades of living on nothing but insects and cave moss. I deserved something tasty after all that. And, as a bonus, Arthur could have escaped a subpar marriage. I know the king isn't the sharpest sword in the armoury. But if that girl hadn't muddied things up, even he would eventually realise that Merlin was his ideal consort. Then the two of them could have ushered in that whole Golden Age of Albion thing together—as they were destined to do. But does anyone ever listen to me? Honestly, I try and try to get my message through to these people, using language clear as daylight, and what do I get? Ignored, that's what.

Gods. I said they were "two sides of the same coin." How much more obvious did I need to be?

I should wash my claws—er, paws—of them all.[4]

And... you have to consider that before that little incident in Camelot, I'd been chained up in a dark, musty cave for decades, alone with the knowledge that the rest of my kind had been slaughtered by the Knights of Camelot. I was the last dragon left _on the face of the Earth_.[5] You'd think the Triple Goddess would understand the concept of vengeance. She certainly had no qualms when the High Priestesses planned to destroy Uther. Why should my attacks on Camelot be any different?

Or maybe the Triple Goddess wasn't mad at me at all. It's always hard to tell what the gods are thinking. They're even more fickle than Uther, and that's saying a lot.[6] A thunderstorm might mean they're angry. Or they might just be bored and feel like playing with electricity for awhile. Hard to say.

I suppose it's possible that there might be—just maybe—other reasons the Goddess sent me back as a cat. These modern humans do tend to suffer from a lack of imagination. I suppose they would lose their marbles if they came face-to-face with an honest-to-goddess real flying dragon.

They'd adapt.

Or... maybe they would shoot me up with those tiny little killing spheres of theirs. And then hire a taxidermist and mount my head on the wall of some stodgy government building.

Okay, perhaps it isn't sooo bad being a cat. Even if the human children like to call me cute and put bows on my head. Ew![7]

And there is something to be said for being small enough to fit into people rooms. Merlin's pillow makes a perfect bed, especially when moved into the patch of sunshine that slants in through the potion-splattered window next to the nightstand. True, the floor there is usually covered with globs of goo spilt from Merlin's latest alchemical endeavour. But it's not my fault that the young warlock is so sloppy with his cauldron, or that he keeps it in his bedroom instead of the kitchen like any other self-respecting sorcerer would do. Merlin says he's afraid someone will see it and learn about his magic, but come on. It's not like he ever lets muggles[8] into the flat. He just doesn't want to have to clean up his mess when his mum and the Old Traitor come over.

So where was I? I got a bit lost in the footnotes there.

Oh, yes. If Merlin would just tidy up after himself, I wouldn't have to drop his pillow into piles of goo in order to get the sun's rays at the perfect angle for basking.

It's delightful there, napping in the warm sunshine. Not that I would ever admit it out loud. It would interfere with my impossible-to-impress image. As soon as I act satisfied, Merlin will stop trying to please me, and then where will I be? Eating stale dry cat food everyday, that's where. I have to keep that boy on his toes.

So shhhhh. Don't you dare tell Merlin this. But life as his Familiar is... not unpleasant. Much better than being in a muggle household where I can't access any magic and am limited to actual, hella-boring[9] feline behaviour.

No, on the whole, life with Merlin is pretty good.

I had been in and out of animal shelters for years, waiting for my "forever home." Gods, what a nauseating term. Your forever home is on the other side of the Veil, thank you very much. These humans have such a limited understanding of existence.

I know what you're thinking. Why would someone as magnificent as I allow myself to be caged in such a place? Especially after what Uther did to me? Well, I guess I was kind of used to it. And things are different, now that I'm not a dragon. If I'd had my wings, I could have flown out to the countryside and roasted myself up a nice lamb whenever I wanted. As a cat, it's either hunt for mice (which have a disgusting habit of clustering around refuse bins and scuttling through sewers) or leap after the pigeons and risk having them laugh hysterically when I miss. Those birds are tricky little buggers. Sure, I'll catch one eventually, but the indignity of making such a spectacle of myself makes the whole ordeal rather unappetising. Pet shelters might be austere, but it's not like I haven't spent most of my past lives hiding out in caves.

The shelter provides food (of tolerable quality), lodging (admittedly with a lack of privacy, but after so many years of solitary existence, I don't mind having some company), and medical care (damned useful for when the fleas show up; I never could figure out how to magic them away as a dragon).[10]

I'd get adopted out to families now and then. None of them ever had a drop of magic for me to bond to, so my communication skills were reduced to hissing and scratching. None of them ever kept me for long. I guess they didn't appreciate my attempts at making my wishes known. Capricious humans.

It was a decent, if somewhat boring, life. Until the day that everything changed.

* * *

What changed? Click [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24669073/chapters/59714332) and find out.

Or I'll send the next wyvern I meet your direction.

(Don't think I can't figure out what direction that is. I am quickly becoming the master of the Googly.)

* * *

3That girl must have been a halfwit to be outdoors during a dragon attack; you'd think a peasant would have better common sense.[return to text]

* * *

4I seem to have developed an aversion to hot water in this feline form. So the only way to wash my paws is to lick them clean. You would not believe the amount of crud that gets stuck on my tongue.[return to text]

* * *

5I don't count those Chinese dragons—too long and skinny. Or those Greco-Roman ones: those are just overgrown serpents with too many heads. And then there are the Albanian ones, but they go through some kooky metamorphosis shite. How are you a dragon if you're not _always_ a dragon? Present company excepted, of course.[return to text]

* * *

6I mean, come on. First magic is all great, and then it's the evil-est. Ygraine is the love of my life, but oops, look, now I'm cheating on her. All magic users must die, but not you, Gaius, you're okay. I love my son to pieces, but I send him to the dungeon and condemn his servant to a painful, poisonous death. I love my daughter so much that I'll break my own laws and use magic to save her life, but I won't acknowledge that she is my actual biological child. Etc., etc., blah blah blah blah blah... How much more fickle can you get?[return to text]

* * *

7That's still better than the ones who pull my tail. Those scamps deserve every allergy-inducing scratch I've ever given them.[return to text]

* * *

8So I read _Harry Potter_. So what? Damn entertaining books, if you ask me. At least until that whole fiasco with the Deathly Hallows. What in the Goddess's name was that about? Do you need a PhD in fantasy literature to understand what was going on there? Besides, everyone knows that if you want immortality, you need the Cup of Life. And really, what did Harry see in Ginny? That's akin to Arthur marrying that wench Guinevere. The chemistry just wasn't there. Maybe I'll have to take a paw to writing my own fantasy novel, one of these days.

(Or maybe I'll just spend my days napping. Can't ever go wrong with a good nap.)[return to text]

* * *

9What? You think such an exceedingly wise and illustrious creature like myself wouldn't use such low-class terminology? I am perfectly able to adapt to the current lingo, the slang, the patois of the lower classes. It's not _hard_.[return to text]

* * *

10You might be wondering if dragons can get fleas. Scientists on the Goggle claim that only animals with fur or feathers can harbour the little pests. Clearly none of those scientists have ever studied a dragon before. Fleas were perfectly happy crawling around in the creases where my scales overlapped. The pesky blighters.[return to text]


	3. Chapter 3

I could sense the Old Traitor before he even entered the room. He smelled of tobacco and treachery.[10.5] Despite the stench, the presence of his magic was a breath of fresh air. Now if only the shelter attendant would leave so the two of us could have a proper conversation.

Except, of course, the twit wouldn't budge. Come on, what did he think would happen? That the feeble old man might forcibly kidnap some of the animals? Isn't that what all these cats were in the shelter for, anyway? To be taken away by random people?

So I took the matter into my own claws—er, paws. I pulled on a thread of Gaius's magic without his permission. Yeah, yeah, I know that's generally frowned upon. But how else was I to open all the cages in the dogs' kennel the next room over? I had to do something so I could speak out loud without any unsuspecting humans keeling over from the shock.

I could tell the moment that Gaius noticed me tapping into his magic. His whole body jerked and he jumped into the air. It wasn't much of a jump. He never could have been considered an athlete, even in the best of circumstances, and now he was all old and decrepit.[11] But I think he got high enough off the floor that someone could have slid a sheet of paper underneath.

By the time Gaius registered me as the tabby cat with the glowing golden eyes, a raucous cacophony of screeching metal and barking dogs had already caused the attendant to rush away with a few swear words and a muttered apology. Perfect. Now it was time for a little chat.

Our conversation went about as well as could be expected.

I pulled at Gaius's magic again to make my voice sound human. "Hello, Old Traitor." My voice squeaked. Good gods, how embarrassing. I hadn't spoken in human for so long, I'd almost forgotten how. I quickly turned the squeak into a cough. It sounded like I was hacking up a hairball.[12] At least I didn't sound like a mouse.

"Oh, is that you, Kilgharrah?" Gaius asked, an annoyingly[13] indulgent smile upon his lips. "I wondered when you would show up. You're much more... adorable... than I would have expected."

I hissed, extended my claws with an audible snap, and scratched at the metal mesh on my cage door. (It wasn't a pleasant sensation, but needs must.)[14] Gaius didn't look nearly as cowed as he had back in the days when I could spit fire.[15]

"Same temper, I see. You do know there are ways to declaw cranky felines? I'd be happy to make you an appointment."

"You wouldn't dare! I am a creature of the Old Religion!" The squeaking of my voice probably didn't help my intimidation factor. Damn it.

"You'll find that doesn't count for much these days."

"Don't lecture me, old man." Squeak, squeak. Cough, cough. Hopefully the yipping and howling of the canine donnybrook next door would cover up the imperfections in my voice.

"I really don't think you're in a position to protest. I notice you've been relegated to Familiar status."

And didn't that sting? After being so powerful in my dragon form (despite the occasional bout of fleas), my current magic came with a handicap the size of Albion: it only allowed me to use magic by tapping into someone else's abilities. I still maintain all my knowledge of the Old Religion and of how sorcery works. But I can't actually perform a spell without borrowing the magic from a human. Usually the relationship is consensual, a mutual understanding between sorcerer and Familiar.

Gaius and I have such a history together that I feel no qualms about accessing his magic without permission. (He could stop me, if he really wanted to. I'm glad he didn't.)

I decided to move the conversation along to more important (and less humiliating) lines of conversation.

"If you are here, I assume the young warlock is too?" Good. That time I neither squeaked nor coughed. Neither of those is a good look for someone as dignified as I.

"Yes, Merlin is my nephew. But he doesn't remember anything from before. Not that I can blame him. It's best to block out that kind of trauma."

Gaius shot me an all-too-knowing look. Almost as if he were trying to blame me. As if! I pointedly ignored him by licking my paws.[16]

"I seem to have no trouble remembering being chained up in the dark for twenty years after the rest of my kind was slaughtered. I also remember how you kowtowed to Uther despite what he did."

The Old Traitor looked thoughtful. "Perhaps memory is the price of atonement. The gods know I certainly have enough to repent." That last bit was said quietly, almost as if he didn't want me to hear.

I'm sure you're expecting that I would have some sort of acerbic reply to that. But there was something about the way he said it... Well, maybe the both of us could have done better, back in Camelot.

I felt sombre. I didn't like it. Best get back to business.

"And the King? I assume he's here too?"

"I haven't seen him."

"That's a problem. Emrys is nothing without his King."

And there's the tiny detail of how I can't rest until those two idiots find their happily ever after. Don't ask me how I know, but I just do. Maybe it's part of this atonement, or whatever it is that the Old Traitor calls it. I just know that I need to help those two get their happy ending. The knowledge burns in my soul, a metaphorical pebble in my shoes. You know, if the pebble was on fire. And if I had shoes.

"That's not true. Merlin has always stood on his own two feet."

Now Gaius was being contrary just for the heck of it.

"It was just an expression," I told him, doing my best to sound exasperated. "You know it takes two halves to make a whole."

Gaius glared at me. If I were a creature of lesser fortitude, I might have cowered a little. Thankfully I have a stronger constitution than that.

"Just remember I'm going to keep my eye on you. If you screw anything up between those boys, give any more shoddy advice on who they should kill... I'll sacrifice you to the gods. After I dress you in pink ribbons. And shave you bald."

He wouldn't dare.

"There are animal cruelty laws now! You can't do that!"

"Then make sure I am not tempted. Merlin's nameday is next week. That's why I'm here, looking to find him a Familiar. I suppose it's not a coincidence that I found you?"

"There are no such things as coincidences. Only destiny. I demand British Banquet[17] everyday."

"Pink ribbons, Kilgharrah. And bells on your collar."[17.5]

"I'll take nothing less than 113% certified organic food."

"Humph." Gaius rolled his eyes. "I'll go get the paperwork in order. It sounds like they're done cleaning up that little disaster you caused. If you dare try anything like that with me..."

He left the rest of his threat unsaid. Which is good. If I heard anymore, I might not be able to rein in the impulse to split Gaius's trousers down the back. Gaius was a tough nut to crack. But I'm not worried. Merlin always did have a bleeding heart. Goddess willing, Gaius wouldn't strangle me (or worse, shave me bald) before the nameday ceremony.

* * *

Click [here ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24669073/chapters/59915737)to see what happens next!

I know you're waiting patiently with bated breath.

(Do take a breath if your internet connection is slow and the next chapter isn't loading.

You can't read more about me if you're passed out on the floor.)

* * *

10.5If I, Kilgharrah the Grammatically Great, had actually needed a pre-reader before publishing this account, such a person may have hypothetically wondered what treachery smelt like. I thought it fairly obvious, myself. It smells like Gaius. With hints of Morgana and Mordred and Agravaine thrown in to balance things out. Duh.[return to text]

* * *

11Decrepitude is something I wouldn't know about. I have, in past lives, spent many, many years upon the earth. That might have made me old, but never decrepit. A creature as powerful as I maintains great strength even after the passing of many centuries. I offer as proof the fact that I was able to transport both the young warlock and the dying king to the Lake of Avalon after the Battle of Camlaan. I've often wondered at Merlin's lunacy at that critical juncture. Why didn't he call me for help right away, as soon as Arthur was injured? Or even earlier, so that I could have rained fire down upon the enemy? Was it because he thought that I, being advanced in years, would be too decrepit to help? That sort of ageism is appalling! After that incident with the [Bendrui priestess](https://merlin.fandom.com/wiki/Finna) (one of the many times that Merlin would have got himself killed if I hadn't bothered to rescue him), I told him that I was "old" and "tired". That didn't mean that I was weak or useless! He should have called me sooner. Then everything could have turned out as it was supposed to and I wouldn't be stuck in a cat body right now. (And don't you think I deserve some props for not giving Merlin any grief about this? I know a broken man when I see one. Pointing out how his heartbreak could have been easily avoidable wouldn't have helped anything. See, I have a heart—contrary to what you might hear from some other sources).

If I were a cynical bastard, and if I analysed my life events as if they were a work of fiction created by a sentient being, I might complain that the omnipotent author in complete control of my existence has an unfortunate tendency to use my character as a [deus ex machina](https://curiosityquills.com/limyaael/avoiding-deus-ex-machina/) when it's convenient, and to forget about me when it isn't.[return to text]

* * *

12[Hairballs](https://healthypets.mercola.com/sites/healthypets/archive/2013/01/16/chronic-hairball.aspx)—Not all they're cracked up to be.[return to text]

* * *

13[Adverbs](https://www.brainpickings.org/2013/03/13/stephen-king-on-adverbs/)—definitely all they're cracked up to be. I've read a few of those simplistic human books about writing, the ones that forbid the use of adverbs, claiming that they "tell" instead of "show". But of course I have to tell you that Gaius's smile was both annoying and indulgent. Is there a certain way to describe it otherwise? Why battle with physical descriptions like "a twitchy forehead" or "the curl of a lip" when I can just state the truth plainly and be done with it? And I notice that you, my dear Polo, have used multiple adverbs in "Get Sick Soon," so you have no right to judge me on this. Not that any mere mortal has the moral authority to judge the great Kilgharrah anyway![return to text]

* * *

14Did you know that saying was used by Shakespeare? Now there was a fine author, one that wouldn't bust out with a Book Seven Debacle. Let's see, how did the Bard phrase it? "And he must needs go that the devil drives." Though no devil could ever drive me... Perhaps I need to find a more accurate phrase. Wouldn't want anyone getting the wrong ideas.[return to text]

* * *

15I wonder how much a portable, cat-sized flamethrower would cost?

Oh look! Ask, and it shall be given unto you!

[A post shared by @kilgharrahthegreatest](https://www.instagram.com/p/CBZK7ypJZVL/?utm_source=ig_embed&utm_campaign=loading) on Jun 13, 2020

One of my adoring fans sent me a flame thrower! Something I noticed you, my dear Polo, failed to do. All you gave me was inconsistent characterisation and fewer story mentions than that tramp Vivian.

And so what if there's only one adoring fan at this point? Isn't that how the rules of this whole mixy fest go? You know I'm much too perfect to require an editor for my story. But if I had a hypothetical pre-reader to be my fan, I would only pick one who is multi-talented in fields as diverse as foreign languages and accounting and art. Someone like that could easily order me a flamethrower from the other side of the world and then commemorate the gift by drawing this delightful picture of me ready and eager to finally shoot some fire like I did in the good old days.

So yes, I know I've only the one fan at the moment. And I know you have me greatly beat, but no need to get snooty about it, Polo dear. I'm certain that once my story gets out, my admirers will be coming out of the woodwork, thronging about attempting to get a peek of me, Kilgharrah, the magnificent and wise flame-throwing cat.

(Can you believe that someone on that Insta-portrait thing had already registered my name? The imposter! I can assure you with great certainty—and a flame thrower—that there is only _one_ Kilgharrah the Great! But when life hands you humans, make human-ade, right? So I adapted and became Kilgharrah the _Greatest_. Beat that, Imposter!)[return to text]

* * *

16Yuck! I got hair stuck on the underside of my tongue. And that is exactly why I had decided to Never, Ever lick myself clean. Except—I can't seem to help it! The urge just comes over me, and I forget why it's a bad idea until it's already too late. Blasted feline instincts![return to text]

* * *

17British Banquet is a grain-free blend made with Arenkha caviar, line-caught Scottish salmon, hand-caught Norfolk lobster, and Devon crab. And don't forget the asparagus, quinoa, and saffron! It's [supposedly the world's most expensive cat food](https://www.ajc.com/lifestyles/pets/company-launches-world-most-expensive-cat-food/UxsxklUtiRz2ZlHFQ8Ol1J/). It's the least I deserve for helping Destiny get these two idiots a happy ending.[return to text]

* * *

17.5Imagine the torture Gaius could unleash upon me! Worse than anything Aredian could ever do. I'll keep these next photos at 25% of your screen width because they're horrifying. Way worse than the Pixie on the next page! (Of course, if you need larger images, feel free to[ visit me on my Insta-Portrait](https://www.instagram.com/kilgharrahthegreatest/).)

NO!

HELLS NO.

OH GODS MAKE IT STOP

KILL ME NOW

[return to text]


	4. Chapter 4

Thankfully, Gaius didn't kill me before Merlin's nameday, though it was a near thing.

It probably didn't help that the week I spent at Gaius's house, I (very vocally)[18] expressed my disgust at the idea of being gifted to someone—as if I were _property_. Take a moment to consider how unappetising a prospect that is.[19] For some reason, Gaius never wanted to listen to my ~~complaints~~ logic, and after a few days he refused to let me tap into his magic anymore. So then I couldn't speak to him at all! Rude! I clawed up his sofa and his rabbit-head mask,[20] and he locked me in the wardrobe for the next three days. I howled all through the night hours, and he refused to feed me.[21] It was kind of like the not-so-good old days.

If there were any celebrations for Merlin's nameday, I wouldn't know, as no one deigned to include me. Gaius just magicked me into a cat carrier and left me outside the door to Merlin's flat. Muttered something about "devil cat" and "better first impression without me." Then he knocked on the door and left me in the hallway like some poor abandoned orphan. Good thing I knew that he was really Mr Dursley and Merlin was more like Hermione, sweet cat lover that she was.

Merlin opened the door and looked up and down the hallway for his visitor. His magic rushed over me, intimately familiar, the power of my Dragonlord. Here at last was someone who would empathise with me. Tapping into his magic was as easy as inhaling the fresh, clean air that follows a rainstorm.

"I am down here," I announced grandly, much pleased with being able to speak again. "Do try to pay better attention to your surroundings. You never know when a goblin or a griffin might sneak up on you."

Merlin stared down at me, jaw dropped, looking young and confused and idiotic—not at all worthy of the title of Dragonlord. But for old times' sake, I decided to ignore all this in favour of something more sentimental.

"How small you are for such a great destiny."

Apparently Merlin hadn't got the hint about old times and nostalgia because all he said was,"You're a _cat_. And yet you call me small?"

I kept trying. "Your gift, Merlin, was given to you for a reason."

"I hope there is also a reason as to why a talking cat is in my hallway?"

"Arthur is the Once and Future King who will unite the land of Albion."

Merlin stared just as blankly as before. No flicker of recognition at my not-so-subtle name-dropping.

"Riiiight," Merlin replied, _at last_ following [the script](https://merlin.fandom.com/wiki/Transcript:The_Dragon%27s_Call). But then he had to ruin it by adding, "Do you think there are mental hospitals for cats?"

"You're the one having a magical conversation in a semi-public hallway. Maybe you're the one who needs to be sent to Bedlam."

With that, I pulled on some more of Merlin's magic (like catnip for the soul!), used it to open my carrier door, and walked into my new home.

Merlin pulled out one of those infernal telecommunication devices these modern humans are so attached to.[22] His fingers tapped frantically on the screen. About two seconds later, I heard Gaius's tinny voice say "Hello."[23]

"Gaius, would you like to explain to me why there is a talking cat letting itself—"

"Himself!" I shouted.

"Errr... himself... into my flat?"

"I told you I would be dropping off your nameday present later on."

Merlin wrinkled his brow. "Nameday present? I... Huh. I assumed... that you might... come in yourself?"

"I knocked, my dear boy, but you didn't answer. I thought you weren't home."

Liar. He was just too fearful of me tapping into Merlin's magic while he was still around. Probably afraid I'd escape from the carrier and claw out his eyes. The lily-livered coward.

"Perhaps I was a little slow coming to the door," Merlin mumbled, clearly not convinced. "But... So... You got me a talking cat?"

"Not just any talking cat. A Familiar!"

"Yes, I know it's a Familiar." Merlin rolled his eyes.[24] "Considering that's the only way for an animal to talk."

"Not true," I interrupted. "I know several spells which can temporarily endow a non-human creature with the ability to formulate human words. Would you like me to demonstrate on that spider I notice crawling along your decorative pentacle?"

Merlin's forehead wrinkled, the beginnings of an epic frown.

"That's not decorative! That's a protection charm." The frown deepened. "Although it does seem to have failed in protecting me from psycho talking cats. And no thank you. I do _not_ need to hear from a talking spider—or any other sort of animal, for that matter. One of you is quite enough."

Gaius's tinny voice interrupted. "I see you've both made each other's acquaintance, so I'll just be going—"

"We have _not_ made any acquaintances yet. Wait, no, don't hang up!"

 _Click_.

"You are incorrect, young warlock, on many accounts. That pentacle is as magical as Dudley Dursley.[25] You might find that the ability to talk to animals is highly useful. And we are, in fact, acquainted. You, it seems, are not keen enough to remember. Or to do a proper protection charm."

I jumped up on a ratty red armchair set in front of the room's heater and curled into a ball. Not the best bed I've ever had, but it was cosy enough for now. The chair started gently rocking back and forth. "Stop that!" I snapped. "You'll make me seasick."

I think the chair whimpered, but honestly. It needed to know who was boss. No shoddy, magically animated piece of furniture was ever going to lord it over _me_.

Merlin collapsed onto the (suspiciously motionless) sofa, mouth still gaping.

"You should close that jaw of yours before any Sidhe decide to fly in and take up residence in there. They always bring along a Pixie, and those varmints are nasty."[26]

The boy squinted his eyes at me but didn't adjust the gaping chasm of his mouth. It had an uncanny resemblance to my old home underneath Camelot. Apparently I was going to have to do all the hard lifting in this conversation.

"Well, when we get a Pixie infestation, don't say I didn't warn you. Anyway, I'm Kilgharrah, your new Familiar. I demand British Banquet everyday."

"Errr... okay then. I... guess it's nice to meet you, Killy."

"Kilgharrah, if you please."

Merlin scowled, but I've always learned it's best to start as you mean to go on. First he'll call me Killy and then it will morph into other undignified nicknames like Killjoy or Killable or Fluffy or Scruffykins, and that's all a big nope, no way, no how.

Merlin moved his jaw up and down a few times as if attempting to speak but had forgotten how. I sat quietly, giving him some time to process. Not everyone can be as sharp, nor as patient, as I.

"And..." he finally spluttered. "That was British what, now? The only thing close to a banquet around here is the Sunday roast."

Oh dear. This boy didn't know anything. I clearly had my work cut out for me.

"British Banquet. It's cat food. I'll expect a ladleful every day when the sun is two degrees past its zenith. And now, if you'll excuse me, all this excitement has left me knackered."

I addressed the armchair. "If you move so much as the tiniest fibre of fuzz while I'm napping, I'll claw you to pieces."

And with that, I fell into a very contented sleep.

* * *

Did the chair get clawed to pieces?

Click [here ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24669073/chapters/60154330)to find out!

(Or perhaps I'll claw your chair to pieces too.)

* * *

18You must remember I hadn't been able to speak human for _ages. Of course_ the words were going to flow out of me faster than soap from a store. And the fact that that metaphor works is yet another reason why wishing for illness is a ridiculous conceit. Of course I, the ever-healthy Kilgharrah, do not require soap nor sanitizer nor bath tissue. But being forced to live among humans has given me an appreciation for these things. In their absence, my highly sensitive feline nose suffers.[return to text]

* * *

19Do you not have any sympathy for me, dear Polo? I suppose you must not, as you had no problem making mention of this indignity in your story. Fine. I shall have to sway you with an example you might be able to relate to. Let's imagine that, hmm, let's see. Consider that slavery was legal in Camelot, back in the good old days. And maybe that bastard Kanen decided to raid villages for people to sell. And he found Merlin and decided he knew just the thing to do with him. (Destiny would have played its part here, making sure the two sides of the coin ended up together.) And so Kanen dressed our little Merlin up in lace knickers, gagged him, blindfolded him, bound his hands and feet, and gifted him to the Crown Prince of Camelot for his coming of age ceremony. Had to make a good impression, you see, for future business opportunities. And the prince would unwrap the blindfold and look into the bluest eyes he'd ever seen. And then he would ungag that mouth and see the most luscious lips—just perfect for kissing.

Of course, the effect would be ruined, here, because Merlin would then call him a prat and try to bite him. So Arthur would be forced to throw his gift over his shoulders and haul him up to the privacy of his bedchambers so as not to make a spectacle of things in the throne room. (Not that Arthur would think voyeurism a bad thing, mind you. Voyeurism can be extremely useful for some of us. But he just wouldn't want to give that creep Kanen the satisfaction.)

And once in the bedchamber, he would admire the boy's long, lithe muscles and his perfect cheekbones and the bulge protruding from the skimpy lace garment. And then—

Well, it really doesn't matter what happens next! Can you imagine how awful this is? Such a violation of a sentient being's rights! Who cares that Destiny was involved. Who cares that Destiny is now ensuring that I become reunited with the young warlock. I'm still being _gifted_.

Disgusting.

[return to text]

* * *

20Cats are meant to chase rabbits, after all. And have you [seen that thing?](https://merlin.fandom.com/wiki/Gaius%27_Chambers?file=ImagesCANQ4VTH.jpg) It's creepier than Mordred as a kid back in Camelot. You know, back when he went around muttering ominous threats while staring at you with those inhuman eyes of his. It was like he saw through your face straight into your brain.[return to text]

* * *

21To be perfectly fair, he tried to feed me, but I bit his toes and scratched his shins and attempted to flee to somewhere more pleasant. I managed to claw my way under the heirloom quilt that blanketed his bed, but alas, he did not mistake my elegant form for a pillow. So back to the wardrobe I went.[return to text]

* * *

22I swear that if it came down to the choice between one's telecommunication device or one's ears, half of these ridiculous humans would let their ears get chopped right off. They probably wouldn't miss them. It's not like any of them ever bother listening to anyone anyway. Just look at Gaius! Silencing me like that! Horrifying.[return to text]

* * *

23Don't believe that I could have overheard both sides of this conversation? I'll have you know that my cat senses are quite acute. Not so good as a dragon's, of course, but nothing for some obtuse little human like yourself to sniff at.[return to text]

* * *

24Good. Despite all I need to teach the lad, he is, at least, capable of donning the correct attitude towards his uncle.[return to text]

* * *

25I'd have preferred to use a less fictional character in my metaphor, someone like Uther the Evil or brass-loving George. But since the young warlock's memory of the past seems so poor, I had to stick to an example he might comprehend. Unless he's one of those magical types who refuses to read _Harry Potter_ because "it misrepresents the true nature of magic." Which is incredibly shortsighted. If you ever want to have a return to the acceptance of magic in the modern world, what better way would there be than to raise a generation of mini wannabe wizards all anxiously awaiting their Hogwarts letters?[return to text]

* * *

26I mean, look at this thing! (I have helpfully sized it to 50% of your screen's width, so as to spare you the horror of the [full-sized image](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/merlin1/images/1/12/HIGH_QUALITY_CHANGELING_STILL.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20120228184054).)

Pink skin, large pointed ears, long noses, dozens of long black warts on its face, plump fingers with claws...

And then look at this tongue! Long, purple, used to eat flies... Disgusting.

Though, come to think of it, a Pixie might keep the flat free of insects. Could be useful. If the spider crawling along that decorative pentacle is any indication, we might need all the help we can get.

(You might wonder how I am able to recreate such a faithful photographic rendition of Gaius meeting a Pixie in Camelot. Well, wonder no longer. Now that I have access to Emrys's magic, I am capable of doing just about anything!)[return to text]


	5. Chapter 5

I became accustomed to living with Merlin quickly enough. Surprising, considering how ignorant (and celibate) the boy was, and how contrary the furniture.

The arm chair got uppity the second day I was there. It bucked me out sometime in the late morning hours and waddled down the hall to fetch Merlin from his bedroom. And people call me lazy! I had been having such a lovely dream, too.[27] Thankfully, Chair became quite docile after a few of my threats,[28] and I haven't had to scratch it up, not even once. I'm kind of surprised at how obedient it is. But the poor thing has lived its whole life with a bleeding heart for a master. That can't have made for a strong character. It needs firm discipline in its life, a strong hand at the tiller. Good thing I'm here now.

The plants in the bedroom seem a little frisky, but nothing wrong with that. Certainly not much else for them to do, stuck in that room all the time as they are. They invite me to join in from time to time, which— Well, you should never snub your nose at the blessings the goddess provides, no matter how... errr... interspecies[29] they might be.

As for Merlin, he's easy enough to live with, although he does have an unfortunate tendency to use stupid puns and undignified nicknames. And despite my warnings about Pixies, he still has a frequent habit of dropping his jaw wide open. He also pulls out fistfuls of his own hair at an alarming rate. I've noticed a correlation between this activity and the charitable moments when I enlighten him with my advice. All that hair pulling can't be comfortable, yet he keeps doing it. At this rate, the boy's likely to end up bald on the wrong side of thirty. You would think he would just smile and say "thank you" when I proffer my nuggets of wisdom. I guess that's too tricky, though. Not everyone is as skilled at smiling[30] and gracious thanksgiving as I.

The food here is much better than what they served at the shelter, though it's no British Banquet. You'd think a warlock would be able to magic up sufficient riches to acquire the best for his one-and-only Familiar. I know it's unethical to use magic solely for personal gain, but how is it _his_ personal gain if it's benefitting _me_? I protested the substandard fare, but Merlin wasn't swayed. He just froze me in place for an hour when I got too vociferous in my demands. After that I tried a hunger strike, but that backfired. Mediocre food was still better than no food at all. And the tinned Whiskas I get now is significantly better than those pellets they served at the shelter.

Overall, my new life was pretty good. I acted with the most dignified of manners once I was actually given to Merlin, after the ignominy and shame of being a _possession_ was gone. I decided to pick my battles to ensure a more pleasant life. And Merlin regarded me with a significant amount of awe and respect, at least in the beginning. It _is_ quite the thing to have a Familiar, and, with a few exceptions, he tried to keep me happy.

One hiccup is that Merlin really doesn't remember anything from before. I try to goad him into saying or doing something that proves that memories of his past life are intact, but it never works. Like that time I switched to that made-for-TV movie about King Arthur. We got to the part where Mordred stabs the king, and Merlin didn't even blink.

"Doesn't Arthur's tragic and unnecessary death bother you at all?" I asked.

"It's just a movie," he replied with a shrug of his shoulders. Then he went back to half-watching the show while sewing button-eyes onto one of those wool puppets[31] he's always making for his friends.[32]

I guess Merlin really has forgotten. I don't think it would be wise to remind him, either. Gaius would skin me alive, for one. Merlin wouldn't believe me, for another. And if the Triple Goddess saw fit to erase the boy's memory, she probably wouldn't be pleased with me for reminding him of his tragic and pointless previous life.

And, despite how it pains me to admit my dependence on the Goddess, I am in a situation where I really want to keep her happy. In my next life, I would rather not be brought back as either a Familiar _or_ a cat. I will always prefer a dragon form, of course, but even being a weak little human[33] would be better than being a cat.

I have the feeling that this is meant to be a happy and peaceful life for Merlin. He'll find Arthur and they can act all cute and googly-eyed with each other. It'll make me sick to my stomach and I'll spray cat vomit all over the flat so they don't forget who they need to thank. And so they don't forget to feed me. I know I can magic my own food out of the pantry, but it's not nearly so fun as watching Merlin do all the work.

In some _Future_ life, Arthur can do the whole rescuing Albion thing. Preferably in a life when I'll be a dragon with wings and be able to fly far, far away... Especially if any dragon-killing tyrants make a re-appearance.

So now that I have the future so thoughtfully planned out, there is just one hiccup to deal with: Where in the Five Kingdoms[34] is Arthur?

Perhaps Merlin had already met his King and just hadn't told me yet. I would have asked his supposed friends, except I've still never seen any of them in person and am forced to take his word for it that they even exist.

After a few months, I started to despair. Still no sign of the King. How was I to ~~spy on~~ help those two get their happy ending if Arthur never showed up?

It was time for me to Take Action.

* * *

To Take Action, click [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24669073/chapters/60167536)!

* * *

27I'd tell you the details (they involved a spanking paddle and an over-large butt plug) but then I would have to raise the rating of my story to "explicit" and that sounds like too much effort after I've already spent so much brainpower deciding it qualified as "mature".[return to text]

* * *

28My promises of clawing and flame-throwing failed to sway that obstinate bundle of sticks and fuzz. So I had to resort to other tactics. I whispered stories to it in the middle of the night. Stories like this:

"The other side of your master's coin is coming. He is the king, your master's master, the only one who can make him submit. He'll be handsome and brave and a little dense at times, but overall, entirely drool-worthy. And I happen to know his arse is as plump and round as a peach. Mmm. Delicious. Wouldn't you like a bite of that?

"Well, you might get one--or maybe ten thousand! I am here to help Destiny reunite your master with his king so the two of them can live steamily ever after. Just think of it. All those muscles, all that golden skin, just begging to be caressed. As the favoured chair, I can promise you'll get extensive amounts of contact with the king's peachy bum. Just imagine. His nude body, worthy of a Greek god, settled into your welcoming arms. And your master in his lap, speared upon the king's mighty sword, at last being fucked like he deserves. They will rock together, faster and faster, chasing the ecstasy that lies just out of reach... Harder, faster... But they can't do it alone. They will need you, dear Arm Chair, to help them achieve their moment of glory. Rock, little Chair, rock, back and forth, thrusting with all your might. Only you can do it! Only you! They will ride you into the highest of heavens, the pinnacle of ecstasy. Harder and faster than ever before. Only with your help will the king explode, pulsing and screaming and pulling your master over the edge with him, sobbing, until they collapse in a limp and exhausted heap lovingly held within your eager arms.

"This can be your future, Chair. (Do you mind if I call you Chair? It's just that Arm Chair is such a mouthful.) I can make it happen. All I need is a little cooperation from you. You shall remain perfectly still when I am sitting on you, and you will not budge even if your master demands it. That's all I ask. Then I will do my part and Make Destiny Happen. And many years of X-rated lap dances shall be yours."

(Damn. I hope that little hypothetical aside didn't lift the rating of this story into the explicit category. Especially after all the effort I've put into keeping things smut-free, to keep in the spirit of your original retelling, dear Polo. Think of all the work it would take to change the rating. I'd have to... figure out how to edit and click and stuff. I'll just get my publisher to deal with it.)[return to text]

* * *

29I'm a little confused as to my own species these days. Am I cat? Am I a dragon? Am I both? I always did find it unfair at the pet shelters when they marked me down as "cat". I might look like a cat, but I'm really a dragon inside. I should start a trans-species rights movement. Someday. When I'm not napping.[return to text]

* * *

30I smile! Often! See:

[Me! Looking very handsome here, if I do say so myself. Look at that smile! 😀](https://www.instagram.com/p/CBkLCu5pJ17/?utm_source=ig_embed&utm_campaign=loading)

A post shared by @[ kilgharrahthegreatest](https://www.instagram.com/kilgharrahthegreatest/?utm_source=ig_embed&utm_campaign=loading) on Jun 17, 2020 at 10:46pm PDT

[return to text]

* * *

31Before I came, Merlin made the most useless charms to give away. Seriously. The first one I saw was a tiny ceramic fox. It had been spelled with a charm for luck and long life. Except the charm was attuned to insects, not humans. I meant to tell Merlin, but I was ready for a nice long nap and figured there would be time enough later. Except when later came, the fox was already gone. Gods, I wouldn't want to be the schmuck he gave that to.

After that, I made sure to let him know every little last thing he did wrong with his charms. I'm so helpful that way.[return to text]

* * *

32I assume he has friends. Not that I would know, though, considering he never invites any of them into the flat. He says it's to keep the magic secret, but I suspect he's just trying to drive me barmy with boredom. At least at the shelter I could chat with the other cats. (There's a reason ' _chat'_ means 'cat' in French. We do like a bit of chitchat now and then.)

You might consider my past life as a dragon, the end of which was spent in great solitude, and wonder at my wish to socialise now. I would just like to clarify that dragons are very social creatures. We just prefer the company of other dragons, and, thanks to Uther, there aren't any more. (I don't count that upstart Quetzalcoatl over in Central America. Fashioning himself as a god! The nerve.)[return to text]

* * *

33Unless the Goddess made me a muggle. Can you imagine? I would have to... work? Unless I wanted to starve? What if I ended up one of those people stuck in a tiny space forced to stare at numbers on a screen all day? With Coke-bottle glasses that would put Trelawney's to shame?

No, no, the possibility is too horrifying. I won't even consider it.

At least as a Familiar, I get the fun of playing the role of the Mysterious Other. You know, the mystical oracle who likes to drop just enough hints to make it clear they know something you don't. I do get a kick out of that.[return to text]

* * *

34I bet you're wondering what the Five Kingdoms are. False advertising, that's what! There may have actually been five kingdoms that got together for a joustin' good time at a party once, but they certainly weren't ever the Thing everyone made them out to be. Half the time kings used the phrase to make it look like their alliance had more members than it actually did (not unlike a pufferfish blowing itself up like a spiky football in order to scare away predators). Half the time they used the term to make it look like they were part of an alliance that was weaker than it actually was, in order to draw out foolish advances by over-eager enemies. And half the time they just used that number because they couldn't count more than the number of fingers on one hand. And if you think three halves don't make a whole, you should consider that half the time, two of those things were true at once. If you don't understand, I'll be happy to send you back to nursery school.[return to text]


	6. Chapter 6

I needed to find Arthur, and if Merlin wouldn't help me, I needed someone—or something—that would.

There was nothing for it. I would have to venture into the hellish nightmare that was the boy's telecommunication device. Just the thought of it makes my eyes cross. Human technology uses tricks to emulate magic. It gives these mere mortals great power without being subject to the balance of the Old Religion or to the Triple Goddess. Without that balance, all sorts of bad things can happen.[35]

I'm surprised at the young warlock's affinity to technology. I would have thought all magical beings would have had an inherent distaste for the stuff. Perhaps because it is a human innovation and Merlin is, despite all else, still human, it doesn't grate against his soul the way it does mine. And if Merlin could tolerate using those blasted electro-whatevers, I could too. No little pipsqueak with reincarnational amnesia was going to show me up.

It took longer than I would care to admit to, but I finally figured out the infernal device's password and how to gain access and control of all its contents.[36] Once inside, I found texts from a girl named Gwen trying to introduce Merlin to her best friend's brother. Bingo! You won't even need two guesses to figure out who the friend and the brother are! Except Merlin, the doofus, kept saying no. Said he had his eye on someone else named Will. Oh good gods. His ability to make intelligent decisions regarding potential romantic partners has clearly not improved over the centuries.

In the end, it was a simple fix, really. I told Device to send a text from Merlin to Gwen asking her to invite both the best friend and the brother to the next Sunday roast. Easy peasy. Merlin would see Arthur, Arthur would see Merlin, and bam! Instant love.

And it worked! The plan worked! Except I had seriously underestimated Merlin's ability to screw his own life up.

Merlin returned from the Sunday roast with a dreamy expression on his face. And I never heard him mention the name Will again. So far, so acceptable.

But. (Why is there always a but?)

The boy had no confidence and no courage in matters of the heart. I encouraged him to invite Arthur over on many occasions, but Merlin always had some excuse. He had to hide the magic. Or he didn't want to come between Arthur and insert-random-floozy-of-the-week-here.

Dumb excuses. Honestly. What ever happened to just telling people how you feel?[37]

When Merlin started giving charms to Arthur but refused to reveal his true feelings, I decided I had to step in. Again. The next time he enchanted something (a piece of tree bark, ostensibly from Swansea but really from the park), I snuck in just a dash of an influenza curse.[38]

Then I showed Merlin how to brew up the best healing draught ever.[39] Love always blossoms when someone is ill and being cared for ever-so-sweetly.[40] Merlin went straight to his beloved-in-distress and was gone for hours. I was certain that this was the breakthrough I needed.

But oh, no, of course not. Why would it be that easy? Never underestimate the stubbornness—or the timidity—of a Merlin in love.

The boy's insufferable mooning continued at a rate even more extreme than before Arthur's illness. He kept sighing and staring into space for long moments. I could have redecorated his entire flat (and brought in a private strip show or two) during those times and he wouldn't even have noticed. But that was less annoying than when he started singing. Those days I had to leave for hours.[41] Otherwise I would have saccharine love songs stuck in my head for days.[42]

Enough was enough. All this mooning had to end. NOW.

I realised that I had miscalculated when giving Arthur the influenza charm. It was pretty obvious there would be no breakthroughs until Arthur knew about the magic.[43] I needed to get him into our flat, and what better way than by providing the opportunity to play nursemaid? His honour would demand that he return the favour after Merlin had so sweetly come to his rescue.

So I decided to use Merlin's own magic against him. You'll probably rail on about the ethics of the thing, but look. I was desperate.

I know it's a risky move. Using Merlin's magic to make him sick could cause chaos. Magic's normal job was to keep Merlin healthy, but I was going to direct part of that power to act against itself.[44] Might make for some strange side effects, but that could be useful. If the goal is a magic reveal, the less control Merlin has, the better.

It was frighteningly easy to isolate some _Streptococcus pneumoniae_ and slip it into Merlin's morning tea. He's so fuzzy at that time of day, he didn't even notice when I encouraged his magic to welcome the bacterium in like it was an old friend.[45]

And....

It worked. As you well know, Polo dear, seeing as you wrote all about it. And if you've forgotten, do[ go read it](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5941164). It was a well written and enjoyable tale. And if for some reason one of my fans (of which I'm sure there will be many; how can there not be? I'm Kilgharrah the Great!) hasn't read the story, you really must post haste to find out how wonderfully my matchmaking endeavours turned out.

I know that in your story, dear Polo, you gave me credit for sending the text message that finally got Arthur over to Merlin's flat, and yes, I sent that. It was so easy to do once Device was onboard with my plans. But I think you can see now that I deserve ever so much _more_ credit for my part in finally uniting the two sides of one coin.[46] If you wish to show your appreciation for all my hard matchmaking work (and perhaps make up for not giving me all the credit that was my due), you could start by including me, Kilgharrah the Great, in a few more of your tales. You never know when something you write might inspire me[47] to relate more of my own accounts of living with the both sides of the coin, finally united. I'm sure you'd have an interest in what I saw while hiding in the wardrobe. Chair and Device and Magic and I will be ready.

* * *

Click [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24669073/chapters/59754922#workskin) for one final word from me, Kilgharrah, your most illustrious author.

* * *

35Just look at that dung pit called Tumblr.[return to text]

* * *

36Threatening the telecommunication device didn't work. Merlin's possessions seem just as immune to intimidation as he is. I have found, though, that his belongings are all rather lonely and bored and would like some more exciting company around the place. All I had to do in order to gain full access to that device was tell it this:

"I know you are very proud of your camera, little Device. (May I call you Device? It's just that Infernal Telecommunication Device is such a mouthful.) And I know how you love to photograph beautiful things. Your master is destined to be mated with a king among men. He is strong and golden and makes all the maidens and most the lads swoon. His pectorals are chiseled and glistening, his abs toned to perfection. And you'll find he's just as finely endowed below the waist as above. Imagine how it will feel to photograph such a specimen! Such splendour, such magnificence!

"And then, just think—your master and the king alone in the bedroom, neither of them with a stitch of clothing. You can imagine such a thing, yes, little Device? I can make it happen. You just need to teach me everything there is to know about how to use you, how to push all your right buttons, so to say. As an added bonus, if you help me infiltrate your master's text messages and voice mails, I will turn your video camera on at opportune moments. Imagine, you can film all that beauty in action and rewatch it as many times as you wish. All I ask is that you would share the footage with me occasionally. Just now and then. Not more than fifty times a day."

Seems like I knew how to push the right buttons on Device after all.[return to text]

* * *

37I mean, look what I did after Merlin released me from that cave under Camelot. I expressed my feelings. Loudly. Unequivocally. There was no doubt how I felt. People could learn from my good example.[return to text]

* * *

38Don't you dare call me a hypocrite! There is a HUGE difference between wishing your beloved an illness just so that you can take care of them and cursing someone to get sick as part of a legitimate matchmaking endeavour. Those are two entirely different things![return to text]

* * *

39I was tempted to add in a love potion, but the problem between Merlin and Arthur was not a lack of affection, but rather a lack of courage. So it wouldn't have helped anything. Nor did I want to have to use a dubious consent tag on any future retellings of my story. Audiences can be so finicky about those.[return to text]

* * *

40That's the whole appeal behind all those sick-fics people keep posting on the Giggle. And for all those hurty-comforty monstrosities too. Nothing brings on feelings of compassion and love in humans faster than watching someone suffer through pain and illness. Humans are such perverse creatures. Let my beloved be kidnapped, mutilated, raped, drugged, whatever. And look how my heart explodes with true love. And for some insane reason, the readers just eat that crap up. Not that that would apply to you, Polo dear. I'm certain you would _never_ stoop to such levels in order to please your fans. Not that I would know, as I only ever bothered to read three of your stories, the three that featured my noble self—and, errrrrrrr, I maybe only read the parts where I'm onscreen; come on, everyone else is boring![return to text]

* * *

41It's pretty easy to leave the flat. I just have to tap into Merlin's magic and open a few doors. But the problem with this is that I wake Merlin up if I try to use his magic while he's sleeping. And then there is the further problem of muggles seeing me and questioning their sanity. So now I have a magical cat flap that leads straight outdoors. (It's fortunate that the flat is on the ground floor. Flying cats might be a bit too conspicuous.) The flap is spelled so that only my guests and I may enter, and it's glamoured from the outside so that no one notices.

You might think that Merlin was being magnanimous when he gifted me this flap. But the full story is a bit more complicated. Perhaps I'll tell it to you someday... It's not like I didn't have that scene half written anyway, back in the early days of writing this, back when I thought third person point of view was the way to go. But this mixy fest seems to have a deadline and the mods (despite their sainthood) are probably getting antsy. And since we've gone waaaaay past that deadline, I figured enough was enough. Not that the world can ever get enough of me, Kilgharrah the Great. But it's best to keep audiences wanting for more, am I right? What did the great Charles Dickens say? "Make them laugh, make them cry, make them wait." Well, two out of three isn't bad. (To clarify... You'll be _waiting_ for this to be posted and _crying_ about how moved you are by my touching story of inspired matchmaking, bringing together two souls that are destined for True Love. No one would ever dare _laugh_ at Kilgharrah the Great! Just remember... I've got a flame thrower and I almost know how to use it!)

Besides, Merlin accused me of licking my own arse in that scene, and.. just... that's a really low blow. Hopefully the goddess will reincarnate him as a cat one of these lives. Then we'll see how _he_ goes about cleaning his bits. 

As an aside... My entirely hypothetical pre-reader wondered about who my "guests" might be. As an answer to that, I'll just say, "Wouldn't you like to know?"[return to text]

* * *

42Ear worms are just as bad as intestinal worms. Probably best if you don't ask how I know.[return to text]

* * *

43Come to think of it, things might have gone better back in Camelot if Arthur had known about Merlin's magic from the beginning. Or at least after that poisoning incident, when it became clear the two idiots were mad for each other. Live and learn, right?[return to text]

* * *

44This is not unlike how most human governments function, actually. And you can see how well that works.[return to text]

* * *

45I'm really getting the hang of this encouragement thing now. All I had to do was have a little chat with the magic, and it went something like this.

"Hello, Magic. Do you mind if I call you Magic? It's just that saying 'Merlin's magic' is such an annoying mouthful... Anyway, yes. You know how you've spent your whole life feeling like half your soul was missing? That's because it was! But it's coming, soon, maybe even today! And then you'll be made whole again.

"As an added bonus, you'll get a whole lot of mating thrown in. Think of it... Your other half, under your complete control in bed. You could bring him to the brink and keep him there. You could hold him down and make him beg for release. You could stop up his air or his voice or pin him to the wall. You could fuck him at the same time he's fucking you! So many possibilities! All I need is your help welcoming my new friend. Magic, meet _S. pneumoniae_. _S. pneumoniae_ , meet Magic. Great, now that we're all friends, let's get this party started.[return to text]

* * *

46And this is quite a trick! Here is a photo from my publisher's kid's science experiment. He took two beat up coins and soaked them in vinegar and salt for a few days.

And look at that. One of the coins actually separated into its two halves. All the insides fizzed away through the magic of science. Those two pathetic sides of the same coin are just like Merlin and Arthur without each other. And just think of how hard it would be to put those two mangled bits of metal back together. I deserve a knighthood for my accomplishments.

Also, please don't call law enforcement on the publisher's kid for destroying money. He was just doing his homework. And his teachers are saints, considering how they have to deal with him, so please don't harass them either.[return to text]

* * *

47I mean, look how inspired I was by "Get Sick Soon." If you hadn't written it, I would never have expanded upon it, and then where would Kilgharrah the Great be? Without fans, for starters. Wait. What's that? You say I still don't have any fans? Geez, what's a cat got to do to get noticed around here?[return to text]


	7. Chapter 7

Oh look, you've reached the end!

That's because I got tired of writing and decided to take a nap in Merlin's wardrobe instead. I know I extolled the virtues of basking on Merlin's pillow in the sunlight, but there are times when the wardrobe is preferable. You know. More covert. (You never know when those boys might come in for a little hanky-panky.)

But that's all right! I might be persuaded to reveal another chapter or two[48] under certain circumstances. Circumstances in which I star in a few more of Polo's stories. (Fine, I'm so desperate, I would settle for just one.) In a pinch, I might even make do with a story written by someone else. But I would expect the quality of the offering to be as excellent as it would be in a Polo story. 

Because the world can only benefit from having more of Kilgharrah the Great!

PS. Whoops! Just kidding. My lovely Number One Artist has convinced me that I would look great in pink ribbons. [Click through to the next chapter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24669073/chapters/61054702) and tell me what you think!

* * *

48Since the author of this story is "anonymous" (wink, wink), you will be unable to subscribe to me, Kilgharrahthegreat. But fear not. I will make sure to post any future anecdotes to this same work, or at least post a link to them in a new chapter here. Therefore, if you subscribe to this story, you will be notified of my future literary exploits. It's the least I can do, after you've been such a good audience.[return to text]


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Which contains a portrait of me, Kilgharrah the Great, with pink ribbons. Do tell me what you think.

Dear Reader,

I had a Number One Fan, but [she has called me Fluffy](https://archiveofourown.org/comments/321525943) and[ laughed about how I would look wearing pink ribbons](https://archiveofourown.org/comments/321534031). Thus, she quickly became my _Former_ Number One Fan. However, she's been trying to butter me up with British Banquet and [Pappy Old Van Winkle](https://www.cnbc.com/2017/10/25/pappy-old-van-winkle-rare-bourbon-costs-315-a-shot.html). And THEN she had the audacity to tell me, "...someone as great and revered as You, would be able to pull of any look, hair or no hair, accessories or not."

I see her point. I _am_ magnificent, no matter how I am attired. Furthermore, my Lady Polomonkey[49] [told me](https://archiveofourown.org/comments/322272862), "I think you'd look nice in a pink bow, Killy". So I asked my Former Number One Fan to show me what I would look like with pink ribbons. And she drew this magnificent portrait of me sitting on Chair. (Notice how still Chair is staying for me? That's a good Chair.)

So what do you think? Are the pink bows fetching? I'm not quite certain...

I must greatly thank my Artist for her prompt fulfillment of my request. I suppose, what with all the British Banquet and Old Pappy Van Winkle, she can be my Number One Fan again.

Sincerely,

Kilgharrah the Great

* * *

49I know I used to call her "Polo", but her positive response to my retelling of her tale makes her worthy of a more dignified name.[return to text]

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to La_Temperanza for the [ tutorial](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4579026?style=disable&view_full_work=true) on how to create footnotes on ao3. I might be a brilliant creature of the Old Religion, but even someone as knowledgeable as I needs a little assistance with the magic of technology from time to time.


End file.
